


The Same Coin, But a Different Currency

by yourshadow (sinistra_blache)



Category: Doctor Who
Genre: Domestic Violence, Multi, The Master Has Issues, Vignette
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-12
Updated: 2012-01-12
Packaged: 2017-10-29 10:10:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 826
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/318766
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sinistra_blache/pseuds/yourshadow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which the Master wants to hear something specific from the Doctor, and will do anything to get it out of him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Same Coin, But a Different Currency

**Author's Note:**

> Set on the Valiant, during the Year That Never Was.

He pushes the Doctor against the wall.

“Say it.”

The Doctor doesn’t even look at him. He focuses firmly on a piece of glass, a shard, in the middle of the boardroom floor. “No.”

The Master smiles. It’s bright. It’s joyous. “But I want you to.”

“I don’t want to.”

“Why, Doctor?” the Master treats his title as an insult. “It’s the truth, isn’t it? Go on. It is. You know it is. Deep in your hearts, you’ve always believed it.”

The Doctor closes his eyes.

“Say it!” the Master is shouting. He can’t help it. He needs him to say those words so badly, he wants to hear them so much that it aches. His eyes blur.

“No, Master.”

He spits at the Doctor. He’s losing his grip on control. Mustn’t let that happen, no. He takes a deep breath and smiles again.

“You’re clever. Using my name like that? Very sneaky, Doctor. Tsk tsk,” the Master tuts. “But you’re going to say it.”

Lucy pads behind him and places her hand on his hip. Soft, present, but thoroughly ignorable. Suits her really, he thinks.

“I won’t. You know I won’t. Just stop, please,” the Doctor’s eyes dart quickly over to her. “Just think about what you’re doing. Just stop.”

Oh. That’s the trigger. Why didn’t the Master see it before? How thick is that?

“If you don’t,” he replies coolly, sliding his free hand over Lucy’s. Her face softens. “Then I could find other ways to entertain myself.”

“Don’t.”

Getting there.

The Master lets him go, pausing only to watch him fall and shakily try to stand up straight. He then takes Lucy’s arm and twists sharply. Her cry echoes through the empty room. She’s still looking up at the Master. She still trusts him.

“Master! Stop this. Stop it now,” the Doctor’s voice high and cracked. He can hear the stress of age and the worry. He can hear the pleas threatening to become more urgent. He can hear the desperation.

Nearly.

The Master grants him one look. One chance. But he doesn’t see or hear any resignation.

The Doctor realises that the look he’s seeing is satisfied.

When the blow lands on Lucy’s face, she doesn’t make a noise. Her head snaps to the side and she lets the blood drip down to the ground without any movement. She shakes a little but that can’t be helped. The Master lifts her head up to look at him and the Doctor watches, confused and horrified, as a moment passes between them. The Master says nothing. Lucy nods, stands up and leaves.

“Good girl,” he whispers before turning his attention to the Doctor. The grin still hasn’t moved.

The Doctor is the first one to break the stare. He lets his head fall. His hair is still thick enough to fall over his face.

“You only did that so that I would say it.”

“Yes. Good for you, you’re learning. It only took you a couple of centuries.”

“You...nearly broke her jaw. She’ll bruise. She’ll need medical attention. She’ll remember that forever. And you only did it for one little sentence?” his teeth gritted now.

“She’ll only remember it until she dies, Doctor. Not forever.”

When the Doctor looks at him his eyes are full of rage and heat. He’s so angry and the Master nearly giggles. He’ll say it now. He has to.

“I want you to know one thing,” an old man pushing himself away from a cold wall to meet his oldest and dearest enemy. “Just one thing.”

“Oh, go on then.”

“I don’t believe it.”

There’s a pause.

“Then you had better apologise to my wife for letting that happen. You could’ve stopped it. You knew what I was going to do, didn’t you?”

No response.

“You disgust me,” the Master barks. “Feeble and useless and perfectly willing to let that happen just to save a little face? What makes you better than me now, Doctor? Hm?”

He’s suddenly very close to the Doctor’s face. His voice lowers to a growl. “Don’t you realise that you’re the same as me yet? What is it going to take?”

“I’m nothing like you.”

“Aren’t you? I would have watched, too. I wouldn’t have given you the satisfaction of winning. I wouldn’t have said a word. Isn’t that what you did? It is. Oh, and aren’t you just proud of yourself.”

“I said,” the anger flashed again, the Doctor’s breaths coming out is strained huffs. “I’m nothing. Like you.”

“No?”

“I have a soul! I care! I wouldn’t...not like you said. I’m not like you, I never was and I never will be,” it’s odd how slowly tears fall through wrinkles, the Master thinks as he watches the explosion.

He pushes the Doctor into his wheelchair with one hand.

“That,” he mutters, pulling and turning the chair until it’s in its spot in the room. “Wasn’t so hard now was it?”


End file.
